- October 17, 2014
My experience of British seaside towns so far has been quite an experience, in the way that foie gras is quite an experience for a goose. The sole true “amusement” I found in Blackpool was squinting at the tower to invoke a post-Apocalyptic Paris in my field of vision. I could understand why the diet of so many locals was a “stick of rock” – in conditions this brutal, why would you not carry around a food that doubles as a weapon? “Weston-super-Merde,” as I have since termed it, certainly contains little one could term “super,” the ubiquity of “happy hour” signs outside its gaudy drinking establishments failing to conceal the scarcity of happiness within the town itself. Southend-on-Sea, from what I have seen, appears to retain its name by location only, the sea perhaps visible further out than the town’s viewing posts allow, beyond the sludge.
And so, Brighton is where I proffer my latest magnum opus, Marcel Lucont Is, which first made a splash on your shores (and I mean that literally) back in May at the Fringe Festival.
But, Brighton, while you may be the best of Britain’s coastal dwellings, just as Stilton is the most passable of British cheeses, there is still quite some work to be done to attract a higher clientèle (i.e. the French) to your locale.
May I make some suggestions:
– The bronzed and beautiful bodies of St Tropez have not achieved their physiques over the years by reclining on beaches where doing so may incur severe damage to the spine. May I suggest taking a giant peppercorn grinder to the length of your beach to grind your rocks down into something known as ‘sand.’
– While on a vague culinary theme, could someone please advise the majority of food outlets that sea creatures do not need to be dipped in boiling oil the minute they arrive on land, a simple light frying and herb garnish will do. This will also result in less viscous puddles being found outside bars and nightclubs later that night, making them easier to clean. I would go one step further and suggest mandatory plates (the sign of any civilised culture’s eating habits). I find it difficult to believe many denizens of the fish and chip shop are in any particular rush to get on with their lives. This will ensure that Brighton’s famous yellow polystyrene paving which becomes such a feature at weekends will be a thing of the past.
– For all the talk of living in an ecologically-sound way, until your town has discovered a way of harnessing energy from **ss, vomit and seagull excrement, it cannot truly be said to be trying its hardest. From what I have witnessed, Brighton’s infants and alcoholics could produce enough of the former two emissions in one weekend to power you for the rest of the year.
For more life suggestions, not to mention songs, poems and musings that will undoubtedly improve your existence, my show is at Studio Theatre, Brighton Dome, Friday 17 October 2014, 7.30pm.